


but at least the war is over

by Viridiantly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas party from hell, Co-workers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, things are literally on fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28077861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridiantly/pseuds/Viridiantly
Summary: Severus Snape hated the annual Hogwarts Staff Christmas Party. For one, he would have to socialise. Which was all that needed to be said, really.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Gift Exchange





	but at least the war is over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbidmuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidmuch/gifts).



> Inspired by [this gif](https://tenor.com/view/community-donald-glover-pizza-shocked-disaster-gif-4891734) (it's the community guy-walks-into-flaming-party-with-a-pizza-box to save a click), and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5qx_ZMY7tU). It's not quite a Christmas party from hell as a first date, but I hope you like this nonetheless. :)

Severus Snape hated the annual Hogwarts Staff Christmas Party. For one, he would have to socialise. Which was all that needed to be said, really.

He would have liked to make his excuses to not to go, except this year, he was Headmaster as Minerva had stepped down after two years in the role citing the need to transition into retirement as soon as possible. (A sentiment that he understood well after his brief stint as Headmaster, though he supposed to role was marginally more bearable now that he wasn't a servant of the Dark Lord and there were no longer Death Eaters in the castle.) No matter how cold and withered his heart was, no matter how much returning to the role of Headmaster had felt like returning to a never-ending war, even he could understand the need for holiday celebrations. Even if he hadn’t felt like there was anything worth celebrating since the war’s end.

And even if it meant putting up with Slughorn’s drunkenness.

And Flitwick’s drunken tendency to send off exploding charms at everyone within a two foot radius of the man.

And Minerva’s drunken tendency—one could get the point. The point was that the entire staff would get massively drunk, with himself as the exception, and he would likely be witness to someone taking off too many articles of clothing and no amount of Obliviation would cure him of the trauma. And wasn’t he traumatised enough from the war already? 

But for all his protests, there was a small part of himself that was perhaps looking forward to the party just a little bit. Because of one person. Not that he would have admitted this to anyone on pain of torture.

Severus was not a man prone to hoping for nice things for himself, but ever since a bushy-haired Arithmancy professor’s assistant had joined the staff, he had found himself...softening. He was slightly worried he was going soft in his old age but Poppy had reassured him that his health was very good for what he had gone through during the war, and that he was still a relatively young wizard in his prime.

Which he was reminded of, every morning, after waking up from pleasant half-remembered dreams of Hermione. Not that _all_ of his dreams were randy...but it was ridiculous. He was forty now, but his body seemed to have missed the memo.

And it was for this reason that he really hoped the annual Christmas party would end in anything but disaster for once, because he wanted Hermione to stay. He had nearly quit Hogwarts after his first staff Christmas Party, Dark Lords be damned, and he shuddered to think what Hermione would think, given that she had even less reason to stay.

* * *

Severus didn’t know what he expected, but the staff room being in flames and freezing at the same time managed to exceed even his grimmest imaginings of chaos, and he had imagined scenarios involving revived Death Eaters.

Cold wet pain bloomed across his face before he could react. His entire body tensed as he wiped the slush from his face, heart racing with war-time reflexes.

The perpetrator was giggling madly, enchanting more snowballs from the piles of snow that had built up around the staff room. Of course it was Filius. No one but Flitwick could have managed to land a hit on Severus, and he briefly wondered at the fairness of having a Charms Master enchant snowballs for a snowball fight. Severus slowly looked up at the ceiling, and found the source of all the snow which was gently falling in the staff room. On his staff. On his staff furniture. On his staff party food. He shuddered to think of the state of the castle wards if Filius had managed to enchant snow to fall in the staff room. Not to mention the fires.

Stepping carefully past a large puddle, Severus took a closer look at the fires lit around the staff room and noticed that no one was on fire from walking through the flames, though the snowballs were melting. More of Filius’ work then. He passed one of his hands into a flame, but the smell of burning had him abruptly withdrawing his arm—somehow the fires were charmed to not burn people, but only people.

Before he could react to this a cloying smell of incense wafted by him, and then he saw that Trelawney had decided to set up a divination stand in a corner, where she was busy snogging the newest Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. He briefly wondered if the curse on the DADA position was still active or if they really did have the worst taste in beings since Bellatrix Lestrange.

A quick look around the room showed that Minerva was in tabby form batting a bundle of catnip around, answering his question of why this chaos had been allowed to run unchecked.

A high-pitched cackle sounded through the room, and suddenly all he could focus on was the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange had somehow come back from the dead and was attacking his staff room. Severus gripped his wand tightly and looked around wildly, but he only found Hooch laughing as she, Hagrid and Professor Binns played some sort of card game. 

It had been a long time since he had felt so keyed up with battle reflexes. Food would help, he decided.

It was difficult to decide on what to eat. The elves had decided to go with an international theme for Christmas, with Norwegian rice pudding, Swedish meatballs, and some sort of baked pasta dish he assumed was from Italy. The food looked good, but that was where the appeal ended, as all of the food had been covered under a thin layer of snow. The smell of wet and cold pasta was not appetising.

Severus decided that perhaps the rice pudding wouldn’t be the worst thing to eat cold when he slipped in a puddle of sick and was transported back to the worst of the Death Eater parties, where tea and torture were the main entertainments, and the stench of vomit a smell that he could not forget, years later. 

He gripped the serving table, and struggled to get his breathing under control. It had been more than two years since the war had ended, but sometimes it felt as if everything had happened just yesterday.

There was a loud crack right beside him and before he knew it a wordless Protego had sprung up.

A small elf looked at him with frightened eyes and drooping ears. “W-would sir like anything fresh to eat?” it asked timidly.

“No,” Severus said through gritted teeth, and righted himself.

Some of the staff had stopped what they were doing and were staring at him. The scrutiny was unbearable.

“No,” he said, not sure what he was saying no to. He cast a silent _Tergeo_ at his shoes, clearing the vomit from both himself and the floor, and then strode out the door of the party as fast as he could, robes billowing behind him.

* * *

His shot nerves were so distracting it took a few moments for him to realise that he was being followed.

“What do you want?” he snarled, barely managing to restrain himself from hexing the person who had decided to go after him.

Instant regret filled his guts when he saw who it was. Hermione had followed him and now she stood stock still, her doe-like eyes wide as she took in the singed edge of his robe and the damp mess of his hair.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

Severus cursed in his head. A dozen retorts flitted through his head, ranging from “what do you think?” to “obviously”, but in the end he settled for honesty. After that show at the staff party, he doubted she would want to be anywhere near him anyway. She was just being kind in her usual Granger manner.

“No,” he said.

“I—I don’t like Christmas parties much either,” she whispered, as if there would be any eavesdroppers in the deserted castle hallways. 

“No?” he asked after taking in a ragged breath.

“It’s—well, Christmas crackers, you know?” she said with a small rueful smile. “And a lot of witches laugh like...her.” She didn’t need to specify who _her_ was, as they both had awful memories of Bellatrix.

“I’m sorry,” Severus said on a slow exhale. “I knew the party was a bad idea. I should have—”

“It’s fine,” Hermione interrupted. “I think everyone’s having a hard time coping, you know? Professor Slughorn had to leave the moment Professor Flitwick started on those snowballs, and Professor Vector left earlier when the fires came out. I think Filius is trying to deal in his own way with too much alcohol and magic.”

Severus could feel his heart rate slow as they spoke, but he still needed to apologise. “Still, I’m sorry you had to witness—”

“The Burrow was on fire last Christmas,” Hermione blurted, cutting him off again. “George was...having a really difficult time of it, and set his childhood bedroom on fire. I don’t think it was a joke,” she finished, voice quiet.

“I also had a hard time at the party,” Hermione continued on, as if she was telling him a secret. Perhaps she was. “I was waiting just so I could see you, and I’m sorry it turned out so terribly.”

Severus was struck speechless. He swallowed when Hermione took a few steps closer to him.

“Look. Mistletoe,” she said, pointing above his head. He looked over his head, and found that a hovering bunch of the white berries was really there.

He looked back at Hermione, who was gazing up at him with a soft expression on her face. The look on her face made him feel bold.

Not breaking eye contact, he slowly dipped his head and pressed his lips softly against her, arms wrapping around her. The warmth of holding her body against his drained all his earlier tension away and replaced it with a very different sort of tension. She rested her head against his chest when they finally broke off the kiss.

Her laughter surprised him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, hands resting gently on her hips now.

“You kissed me first. I didn’t plan on this happening like this,” she said, smiling.

“Oh? What did you plan then?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I had planned on asking you to my quarters with an excuse of wanting to give you your gift in private, and then trapping you there with conversation about one journal article or another. Then offering you something to drink, and if I was feeling particularly brave I would kiss you…”

Severus let out a laugh. “What’s stopping you from this plan now?”

Hermione pouted. The expression was exceedingly fetching. “You know what my goals are now.”

“Ah, but you don’t know what I have planned for the end of the date,” he said, unable to help himself.

As they walked to her quarters hand in hand, Severus thought that perhaps the staff Christmas party had not been so awful after all, though there would need to be changes next year. Two and a half years had passed since the war, and it was obvious that it still weighed heavily on everyone. But at least some of his staff felt safe to let loose, even if it had been to an excess. And the only person who he wanted to spend Christmas with felt similarly about parties and possibly felt the same way he did about her.

He could finally feel it. The war was over, and he had found a new beginning.


End file.
